


Friend Zone, Act Two

by brojermo



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:42:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28800765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brojermo/pseuds/brojermo
Summary: A walk home turns into a night to remember.
Relationships: Knuckles the Echidna/Sonic the Hedgehog
Kudos: 13
Collections: Fanfic Cafe





	Friend Zone, Act Two

It was one of those rare occurrences. When the mind returns from the realm of sleep and finds itself again caged in its prison of meat and bone, but the eyes have yet to open and reveal to the mind what it can still refuse to accept. Unwillingly his other senses came to life to compensate for the lack of sight. He felt comfortably warm, his weight supported and cushioned. At least that part was not a dream. His left arm tingled a bit, and he could smell musty cedar, and…armpit? He opened his eyes reflexively to this revelation.

He was in a spartanly furnished, circular room. The walls were cedar, or cedar paneling. For all he could recall, he could be in a hollowed-out cedar tree. But that was the least of it. His left arm was pinned under another, the comfortably unconscious form of his long-time rival. He turned his head slightly to lift his nose from the ticket of red hair his “frenemy” cultivated beneath his burley arms.

He found himself briefly taken aback, but his sense memory quickly filled in the holes in his recollection. He and his convivial adversary had been carousing with friends the previous night at a neighborhood pub. What had started as friendly jabs between the two of them led to a series of competitive dares. Pool, darts, and soon a drinking contest ensued, to see who could better hold their liquor. Their friends, bored of their contentious behavior, had since cleared out of the watering hole, and the two found themselves alone when the tall bartender closed for the night.

The two left together, their contest at a draw. As they walked, they found that away from the eyes of their peers and in the excess of their cups, a sliver in the rivalry had opened, revealing an admiration that one can only muster for their equal. Sure, they rarely agreed on anything, but they shared the stubbornness of their convictions. They also shared a brief smile. They were alike in more ways than they weren’t. But this realization was short lived, and his burlier counterpart turned suddenly from him, and chided him for his momentary weakness. Instead of reacting in kind, he said to him “Hey Red, I see through that mask of bravado. I know you and I don’t always see eye to eye. You’ve been saddled with a huge responsibility, and that means you must appear strong, even when you’re not. But right now, the stronger thing is to resist the temptation to fall back on the learned behaviors that protect you, but that also keep you isolated. Even in a crowd of all our friends, I see that you feel alone. But you don’t have to be. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable, there’s true strength in that.

He found himself unexpectedly embraced. He put a mitted hand to the back his head. Their eyes met, their lips touched, clumsily at first, but asking permission for more. He gave permission to his lips, his hips and so much more.

Now in the afterglow of previous night activities, past the fog of the previous nights’ drinks, he finds himself in the embrace of his rival-turned-lover. Their bodies pressed together as though they belonged this way. He knew he could wake any moment, dreaded the likelihood that he would return to the oppressive habits that had kept him so distant. But for the moment, he had him where he’d always wanted him. With his free hand, he brushed the patch of white in the center of the otherwise crimson-haired chest gingerly with his fingers. He sighs pleasurably to himself.

Suddenly a claxon goes off loudly. The room is filled with rotating lights alternating red and blue. The form on his arm leaps to its feet, knocking him to the ground. He tries to stand, but the ground feels as though it’s falling away from him. He grabs his shoes and ties them to his feet.

“What’s happening?” he asks?

“Goddammit!” He shouts, pounding his meaty fist against the console. “They were stolen! Again! See! This—This is why I have to be guarded all the time. I can’t just flit around like you! A whole eco system relies on me to be vigilant.”

“Hey calm down. We’ll get them back!—We always do. We’ll scramble our friends, give chase. It’ll be an adventure—”

“This isn’t an adventure for me! It never is! It’s a birthright and burden, and—You know what—You’d never really understand. Just go. Its what you’re good at. I don’t need you here. You’re just a distraction!

He opens his mouth to protest. But he can see the nigh-impenetrable shell has returned, thicker than ever. He pictures in his mind the moment of passionate repose, and hangs it on a high shelf, to be revisited when there was time for nostalgic impulses. He then dons his own mask of bravado.

“Hey Moldie-locks! No chance you’ll get them back before I do.” He then runs the circumference of circular room, ascending the walls like the thread of a screw before exiting an open knothole at the top of the hollow tree. As he somersaults end over end propelling himself forward at tremendous speed, he is sure he saw Red’s prominent eye-teeth glinting in a smirk moments before the island collided with the ocean.


End file.
